Le Dupeur: A Comedy in Three Acts
by suzukeii
Summary: Samuel Oak is an inventor and purveyor of fine wares and whimsical mechanical toys. However, he's been keeping his biggest project yet a secret from everyone else in the village, including his grandson, Green: an automaton in the image of a strikingly beautiful girl. Influenced by E.T.A. Hoffmann's "Der Sandmann".
1. In Which The Inventor Is At Work

From the journal of Samuel Oak

 _3 May_

 _Late afternoon found me sitting in my workshop, utterly at a loss for any ideas. I could not, for the life of me it seemed, prod myself into adjusting my previous works nor beginning new ones. Then, as the shadows began to grow, my luck appeared to change._

 _A beautiful voice, young and pure, floated into the workshop as if on a cloud. It drew me to the window, like a flame does a moth, and I peered out to find the source of the haunting sound. I surveyed the woods, seeing no movement except for the occasional rustle of an animal in the leaves. I very nearly gave up, convinced the sweet song was merely a figment of my imagination, before my gaze finally fell upon a young girl walking along the edge of the forest._

 _Her hair, long and chestnut, was plaited over her shoulder and woven with wildflowers; her white dress billowed in a soft breeze about her knees; the dappled sunlight through the treetops illuminated her sylphlike figure; and as she turned her head toward me I could see her delicate mouth open in song._

 _For a moment the ludicrous notion that she might be some sort of faerie crossed my mind, her voice so aethereal and limbs so waifish. And how surprised was I, when I had looked away for not a moment and she had vanished without a trace!_

 _But I shook the thought from my head and returned to my seat at the desk, where my block of moulding clay lay. Without paying any mind, I picked it up and began to warm and shape it between my fingers._

 _After a few minutes, I found I'd formed the shape of a young girl's face, her nose delicate and cheeks soft. And suddenly the idea took hold of me; to begin my most brilliant piece of mechanical genius…_

Earlier in the day, Samuel had been enjoying a morning cup of tea when he'd been interrupted by the sound of his grandson's tutor having a conniption fit.

"Honestly, Mr Oak!" The exasperated blonde dragged a boy, no more than ten years of age, by his ear into the inventor's room. "This grandson of yours does not think lessons in deportation and elocution are good enough for him." She let go of him, pushing him toward the old man as he rubbed his reddened ear indignantly. Samuel's eyes crinkled with a smile.

"My dear Hanne, what has he done this time?"

The young woman smacked the boy upside his auburn head of hair and harrumphed. "Only joined the peasant boys to steal bread! As though we do not have enough."

"Green," the inventor said mock-sternly to the boy. "What did I say about obeying Hanne?"

"But lessons are so awfully boring!" he huffed. "I just want to run about with the other children in the village. Today is my rest day!"

"Now, Green, listen to me well." Samuel's voice was serious now, and his disgruntled grandson looked up at him. "Your parents were good people who wanted you to be intelligent, and kind, and properly raised. Hanne is here to teach you your manners." Green stuck his nose up and cast a look askance at his tutor.

"I think Hanne should resolve to teach only what she knows."

* * *

Green figured the opportunity for a snide remark was well worth the punishment for his impertinence, an extra two hours of lessons on proper etiquette. But Hanne was insistent on his being absolutely perfect, and her adjustments to his posture were more forceful than usual, or necessary. He nearly regretted the earlier jab by the time he was allowed to leave the house to rejoin his troop of ragged village boys.

Being the only one of any noble blood, he always stuck out like a sore thumb among them, at least until someone threw an insult and all of them were dragged into an impromptu wrestling match that would leave his white shirt soiled by the streets. It was comforting that none of the boys really paid any mind that he, by the technicalities of social hierarchy, was supposed to be superior to them, even to those older than he.

Today's game was Hide-and-Go-Seek, and one of the younger striplings, a rather slow thing, was left alone in the street without a choice as the others ran off to hide. Green took off toward the forest on the edge of the village, his usual place. As he crested the hill that sloped downward to the woods, however, a girl some distance away caught his eye, and he slowed to a stroll toward her.

She crouched on the ground in a plain white frock and dark laced vest, picking wildflowers. A strand of long brown hair that had escaped the braid over her shoulder fell forward into her face as she plucked a handful of yarrow, and she brushed the hair back, leaving a smudge of dirt on her cheek. He could see into the basket that sat beside her, lined with a red patterned cloth and filled with flowers of varying colours and shapes.

 _That cloth_ , Green thought, _must be the prettiest thing she owns_.

At the sound of his footsteps nearing, her head shot up like a startled deer. She had big, open eyes like a deer, too, Green decided, and he watched her stand slowly with the basket and smooth out the skirt of her dress.

"Hallo there," he said, stopping a few feet away from the girl. She nodded back, her eyes downcast. "What's your name?"

"Leaf." Her voice was quiet, as he'd expected.

"I'm Green." He felt a phantom Hanne jab him in the side. "...It's a pleasure to meet you." The girl's eyebrows raised curiously at his addendum.

"Uh, would you like one?" Leaf asked, holding out a bright yellow flower to Green. He took it, but a voice in the back of his head reminded him of the "manners" his tutor had been trying to teach him.

"Thank you," he said, "but I think it would look very nice in your hair." The girl's honey brown eyes widened as Green stepped closer and reached over to carefully thread the daisy into her braid. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. "Yes, that's much better."

He deliberated her face, the loose, disheveled strands of hair framing it, the dirt on her cheeks and forehead. "I should like to kiss you," he said, "but you're rather ugly, I think."

Leaf's nose scrunched up, her brow furrowed, and Green didn't see her fist before he felt the pain blossom in his cheek. His back hit the ground with an undignified thump, and he scrambled backward across the grass and away from the girl before she could wind up another punch.

"Oh, come on, Green!" one of the boys called from over the hill. "Are you bothering girls again?"

"Ah, no! I'm coming, I'm coming." He stood quickly, brushing the dirt off of the seat of his pants. Green spun around, rubbed his smarting cheek, and ran off toward the laughter and conversation of his friends. He didn't dare spare another glance back at Leaf, who stood with hands balled into shaking fists at her sides.

* * *

 **Happy non-denominational winter holiday! Have a little gift, from me to you. Yes, you, sitting there in front of your electronic device, or maybe for some strange reason you've printed this out, and reading this right now. This is for you. Doesn't it feel special? You're beautiful.**

 **This'll be a pretty quick read, but I'm hoping you all will enjoy it. Don't worry, the first chapter is the shorter than the next by a considerable amount, and it was primarily for exposition, as first acts commonly are.**


	2. In Which A Ball Is Held

Several years later, it was the girls now who lathered Green with so much attention. The black eye had faded, and he had grown into an astonishingly handsome young man, charming and charismatic to all that met him. No girl in the whole of the Pallet Kingdom could look upon him now and deny him.

At least, besides Hanne. She refused to let him coax her into anything; after all, to her he was exactly as charming as he'd been as a child - that is to say, as charming as a particularly large slug. At nineteen, he was now taller than her and revelled in it. One of his favourite pastimes was to rest his elbow on her blond crown of braids as he read and stay there regardless of where she tried to walk.

This is what he did now, with a grammar book in hand and a rather displeased Hanne under.

"Hmm… Hanne," he said as he walked with her to the kitchen, "it says here that 'there are very few man of letters, who have acquired accuracy of pronouncing _sentences_ ; while the greater part of Instructors are illiterate men and women, who are wholly ignorant of rules respecting _both_.'" The young woman kneaded a large ball of dough she'd left on the table to rise not long ago. "Do you fall under that 'greater part'?" He was teasing, as usual, but Hanne's palms dug more viciously into the soft dough.

"Have you nothing better to do than distract me from my chores?" she snapped, and Green removed his elbow from the crown of her head to tap her nose with the corner of his book.

"I am _quite_ distracting, after all."

And with that, Hanne pushed him out of the kitchen to "go find someone else to bother, and preferably not your grandfather".

As it was a pleasant autumn afternoon, Green decided to sit on the bench outside the house and enjoy the sun before winter shortened the days. The sky was a bright blue, utterly devoid of clouds, and the smell of red and orange leaves had settled into the cool air comfortably.

"Green Oak?" The young man looked up from a particularly enthralling chapter on hanging prepositions to see a messenger standing in front of him and holding out a cream envelope, its corners tastefully gilded.

"Hullo, what's this?" asked Green as he took the paper and admired the ornate lettering of his and his grandfather's names.

"An invitation, sir," said the messenger. "I didn't read it." Green gave him a nod and stood, stretching, to go back inside. He paused, however, observing the man's tired clothes and face too worn for his age. _Of course he hasn't read it_ , Green thought. _He can't_. His eyes fell to the printed pages in his hand.

"Well," he said, mustering up some sort of authoritative air, "I haven't any change for you, so take this instead." Green shut the little book and held it out to the messenger. He waved it encouragingly for a bit, but the older man only shook his head.

"I can't, sir."

"Go ahead, I've read it already," Green insisted, and the courier tentatively took the book, his eyes darting between Green and it incredulously. "And the next time someone sends me an invitation, you can read that, too."

* * *

"Grandfather!" Green called as he knocked on the door of the inventor's workshop. The handle was locked, as it had often been recently. The old man had also been spending hours upon hours cooped up in there as of late, only taking breaks to use the toilet - he even took his meals in that room.

"I'll only be a moment!" There was much shuffling and the dull thud of metal on wood before Samuel opened the door for his grandson. "What brings you here?"

Green could see the tiredness in the lines of the old man's face, but a twinkle still shone in his eyes. "We've been invited to a dance, a ball, at the home of Sir Red Emerson tomorrow. We shall go, of course?"

"Ah, certainly, my boy. An excellent opportunity to socialise. You see how important your lessons have been?" Samuel's voice was teasing, and he chuckled as he pushed Green back out into the hallway. "Now, go, find something absolutely astounding to wear to catch all of the girls' attention."

"I could do that in peasant garb, Grandfather. None of those girls interest me."

"Ah, still so bumptious. Go on, go on, I've got much work to do."

Samuel shut the door and locked it behind him. His surprise had nearly been spoiled.

He crossed the wooden floor of his workshop and warily opened the doors of his largest cabinet. Inside stood a doll, life-sized and in the form of a startlingly beautiful girl with striking blue eyes. He carefully lifted her out, her creamy skin cold to the touch, and set her down on her feet.

"I apologise for throwing you in there so suddenly," Samuel said, brushing the dust off of her light brown hair, but she only stared at him. "I hope you can forgive me, Blue."

Upon her completion the year earlier, the inventor had found that he hadn't named his lovely automaton. Inspiration had struck as he looked into her eyes, blue as the ocean, and they had become her namesake.

At his behest, Blue sat at his worktable, her movements measured but not nearly as unnatural and static as they had begun. "Now," said Samuel, "speak to me."

"Oh," she only replied, and the inventor sighed. Despite her heavenliness and her realism, he could not induce her to utter any other syllable. It was the only downfall of his masterpiece, who could have otherwise engaged any human in conversation and social affairs.

Soon, he resolved. Soon he would be able to make her speak, make her sing for him like the girl in whose image she had been moulded. That pure voice still rang clearly in his head after nine years, sometimes waking him in the night. He had attempted experiments with sound, including a rather sweet tin bird that sang several songs for him, but he could not, try as he might, replicate the human speech in this girl.

However, he'd made do with what he had, and he had even begun to fashion dresses for her, like his own daughter. Taffeta, lace, and silk of all sorts of colours filled his wardrobe, which now looked more appropriate for the tailor's than his workshop.

Tonight she would model for him the loveliest yet, a deep blue gown to perfectly match the shade of her eyes and lie across her shoulders to reveal her white neck, as graceful as a swan's. Perhaps she was the princess of a rich kingdom. Perhaps she was a baroness, attending a ball like Sir Emerson's.

"Come, Lady Blue, dance with me," Samuel said with an adoring smile as she curtsied for him. Her mobility had improved dramatically, and while he waltzed with her around the space of the little workshop, he felt a welling sense of pride in how she followed his lead and the tempo of the music solely within his head.

Too soon, it seemed, had the candles melted down and the hour drawn late. The inventor unwilling gave a final bow to Blue, who curtsied back ever so daintily before carefully climbing back into the cabinet Samuel had been required to make her home to avoid prying eyes. The old man locked the door behind her, pressing a goodnight kiss to the mahogany wood before he left for bed.

* * *

"Come, Grandfather, or we shall be late!" Green called through the house as Hanne slipped his coat over his shoulders and adjusted the collar of his shirt.

"Hold the carriage, Green," she said, her patience wearing thin already, and shoved him toward the door. "I'll fetch him." As the young man stepped outside, she ran up the stairs toward the workshop. "Mr Oak!"

"Yes, yes!" she heard him respond faintly. "I'll be only a minute!"

She reached the door of the workshop, and from inside Samuel could hear her impatient knocking. Still, Blue climbed into her cabinet as fastidiously as ever, and he didn't dare push her, lest her fragile mechanics suffer consequences. Again, he had lost track of the time as he admired his handiwork in her cerulean gown. He shut the wardrobe behind her and quickly strode to the door, opening it to meet a rather vexed Hanne with his coat in hand. She hurried him along the hallway and out of the house, where Green waited with their carriage.

In Samuel's haste, however, he had left Blue's cabinet unlocked.

* * *

"Now honestly, Samuel, don't you believe it's time the young man find a suitable wife for himself? He's no longer a boy stealing bread with the peasants," said one of the attendees of the ball, a stout, rubicund professor of medicine at the nearest college. Samuel had been offered a position there in years long past, but he had refused. The two of the men had become acquaintances over time, often sending letters on new developments in either invention or pharmacology.

"Lord Leighton," said he, observing his grandson, who had been surrounded by a gaggle of young women upon entering the hall, "as much as I agree, I do believe he has some time to enjoy before marriage." The topic of Green's marriageability had become something of a sticking point between the lord and the young man, with Samuel often pulled between the two. Lord Leighton had heavily hinted that Green may find a seemly girl at this particular ball to wed, and the inventor sincerely hoped his acquaintance was right, for he had grown weary of the petty arguments.

The hall suddenly fell silent, and the three men surveyed the room to determine the reason. Green was the first to notice her, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight. Murmurs, appreciative and gossiping alike, rippled through the crowd as she stood at the top of the stairs.

She was a young woman, svelte and with ivory white skin that contrasted with the cornflower blue gown that hung off of her dainty shoulders. The many-layered skirt of the dress brushed against the floor, long enough to conceal her feet. Her shining chestnut hair was coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck, a few curled strands left out to frame her oval face. There was an air of regal grace about her that made her appear to be floating on a cloud.

"I say, Samuel," the lord breathed. "Who _is_ that beautiful girl?" A smile grew on the tinkerer's face as the realisation dawned on him, despite his confusion on how she might have found her way to the ball.

"Blue, my dear! How lovely it is of you to attend!" Samuel called to her, and she carefully descended the marble stairs. In her deportment there was something measured and stiff, and whispers from the ball-goers echoed through the great hall. The crowd parted as she crossed the tiled floor with delicate steps toward him.

She was even more striking from this closer distance. Her face was like that of a china doll, her lips like a ruby rosebud and nose fine and elegant. If Aphrodite had ever come to earth, Green was certain this woman was she. He struggled to control his shallow breathing as he knelt down to place a chaste kiss on the back of the girl's startlingly cool hand. She looked down at him curiously, thick lashes framing her deep blue eyes.

"May I introduce my grandson, Green."

"Oh," said she, her doe eyes blinking.

"It is an extraordinary pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady," said Green as he straightened up, and his heart felt ready to leap from his chest.

Samuel found a singular pride in the envious stares Blue received from other girls and in the way the men tripped over one another to get a closer look at her porcelain beauty. He had deceived the entire ball with his magnificent creation, including his own grandson and the esteemed professor! Unfortunately, he had not been able to help with her speech, which remained extraordinarily limited. But, he decided, better this than the chirp of a bird!

The crowd soon began a waltz, and Green immediately swept the entrancing girl away for the dance. Her movements were as lithe as she was radiant, and he became lost in her shining blue eyes. He saw the life stirring deep in them and the same adoration that he held for her. So spellbound was he that he could not feel the coldness, permeating her white gloves, of her hands upon his shoulders or between his own fingers. A terrible emptiness gripped Green as they separated to change partners and a young blonde fell into step with him.

He could not hear a word the new girl said, only focused on how close those other men dared to dance with Blue and how he should like to run over and keep her all the night. As partners continued to rotate about the hall, he could peer over heads to see longing in her eyes like deep pools of water, longing to be back in his arms. Then one of his partners, a stuffy sort of girl that seemed to lead rather than follow his steps, made a remark that caught his attention.

"She is dreadfully... _dull_ , you know. Lovely in the extreme, but awfully dull." A terrible annoyance filled Green at this young woman's jealous words.

"You know nothing of her," he snapped, finally tearing his eyes away from Blue. "How could you not see the light that shines from within her eyes? The love in her gaze is far more than any other's petty stare." The brunette was taken aback by the vehemence behind his assertion, and neither said a word as the dance ended.

Green's eyes were only for the slender girl with the ivory skin and royal blue gown, and he wove through the crowd with exceeding swiftness to meet her again.

"Come with me," he said softly against her cheek, and he led her, readily compliant, to a balcony that overlooked the twinkling lights and majestic fountain of the castle's garden. He saw the sky of stars reflected in Blue's eyes, and he simply could not restrain the words that tumbled from his lips.

Green clasped her cold hands in his. "How you beguile and tempt me, my heavenly lady. Your beauty is bewitching, captivating, enthralling. I cannot look away without my heart feeling squeezed with such anguish. Tell me, do you love me, my evening star? I need but a single word!"

Blue only sighed, "Oh, oh," and the young man took that as a wistful reciprocation of his love. He bent down to her mouth when his lips were met by ones as cold as ice. But he held, and Blue did not withdraw from him; slowly he could feel warmth and life fill her touch.

* * *

"Lord Leighton," Green declared, and the professor turned from his conversation with another man. "Perhaps it should please you to know I have found my future wife."

The lord's ruddy face betrayed surprise at the young man's confidence as Samuel chortled at his grandson, taking a sip of his wine. "And who might this lucky young woman be?"

"The loveliest girl I have had the utmost pleasure to meet tonight. She is quiet, but she needs no words to express the deep love I see in her eyes as her heavenly gaze meets mine; it is as though she speaks directly into my mind. Never have I been so entranced by a woman. She is exquisite, her lips as soft and pink as the petals of a rose, and her fingers as fine and beautiful as those of a doll. Her name is Blue."

Samuel's glass shattered on the floor at his feet.


	3. In Which Much Ado Is Made About Nothing

**I'm going to hop in here and be a loser telling you that Blue walks up the aisle with Pachelbel's Canon in D Major playing. I fell in love with the piece a few years back, and it'll always hold a special place in my small heart.**

* * *

In hindsight, perhaps it would have been a more prudent idea to lock Blue up to keep her from leaving the house in the first place. Now Samuel's grandson had pledged to marry the doll - a beautiful, graceful doll, but a doll nonetheless.

The inventor was utterly perplexed.

And now, as everyone prepared for a wedding of the strangest ilk Samuel was able to imagine, he couldn't recall the pride of his deception. Now an anxiousness seized him like no other at the prospect of his grandson's marriage to a piece of cold metal, regardless of how beautiful or realistic she appeared to any and all, and regardless of how much she might have seemed like a daughter to him.

The day of the wedding arrived too soon for his liking, and Samuel looked on as Green straightened the lapels of his coat in the parlour mirror. The old man's gaze seemed to flicker everywhere, and his wrung his hands behind his back.

"Oh, why are you so nervous, Grandfather?" asked Green. "Are you not well?" He looked at his grandfather behind him with concern, but the latter shook his head. "You mustn't worry so. Everything will be perfect."

Of course, _not_ everything would be perfect. Samuel's grandson was about to devote his love to a robot! A mechanical being in which he'd imagined a light and life! But the confession caught in the inventor's throat - how could one say something like that on kin's wedding day? With all the preparations, and the adoration with which he'd lathered Blue, why, Green should go positively mad upon the news. Samuel could only watch as Green entered the hall from the side and made his way up to the altar.

The wedding march, a string canon light and airy, began once all had taken their seats, conversation hushing except for occasional murmurs, and the bride entered on the arm of Lord Leighton.

Her face was modestly covered by a veil that only hinted at the delicate beauty beneath. A crown of flowers was woven into her long chestnut tresses, which lay in soft curls around her shoulders. Her dress, a white gown trimmed with light lace, trailed behind her slow steps. Truly, she was a vision, and pride radiated from Green's face at the sight of her.

The professor handed her to the groom, parting from her with a simple kiss to the cheek. He waddled to his seat beside Samuel as the music faded and the pastor began his droning speech.

As the old man looked upon the couple, their clasped hands, the utter euphoria on his grandson's face, his eyes began to well with tears. Lord Leighton placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"They will be very happy together," he whispered comfortingly and handed Samuel an embroidered handkerchief. "Your son chose an excellent, lovely girl for his wife. You could not be prouder, and certainly his parents could not be prouder either." The words did nothing to mollify the mounting terror in the inventor's chest, and he blew his nose out noisily into the cloth as his friend patted him on the back. Oh, dear God, if the boy's parents saw what was happening...

"Into this union the two now come to be joined," said the pastor. "If any can show just cause why they may not be lawfully wed, speak now, or else forever hold your peace." A single sob escaped Samuel in following silence.

"Will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?"

The veiled girl said not a word, as the inventor had anticipated and feared, but gave a nod of her head.

"Green Oak, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together with her in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her as long as you both shall live?"

"I will." Never had Samuel heard his grandson speak with such passion, such devotion, and the thought that he now spoke to a mechanical doll in that manner made him want to outright bawl.

"Having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife." He closed his book and turned to Green. "You may kiss the bride."

Green slowly lifted the veil over his bride's face, savouring the moment as her lovely face was revealed, with lips like a ruby rosebud and deep, honey eyes.

But just as a cry of objection was about to escape his mouth, Samuel saw that the girl at the altar with his grandson was not of a ghostly pallor, and while Green leaned down to kiss her, her lips turned up into a warm smile his automaton could have never made.

The audience applauded the new couple and the music began once again as the old man's face fell into his hands, his shoulders slumped in relief.

As the reception began, Green approached his grandfather with Leaf. "Why," he said, smiling, "you seemed about to faint with worry before, Grandfather! I did tell you all would end perfectly." He pecked Leaf on the cheek, who gazed up at him with a lovely smile.

"But at the ball, I…" Upon second thought, Samuel only shook his head and chuckled. "Never you mind. My boy, congratulations. To you as well, dear Leaf." He gathered the girl in his arms and placed a kiss on her cheek. How fain and how grateful he was to feel the warmth that radiated from her skin!

"And now," said Green, "I must introduce my beautiful wife to Lord Leighton. I believe he will be quite surprised to see my 'peasant' wife!"

As you see, my dear Reader, always remember: _le dupeur est souvent dupé_! The deceiver is often deceived!

* * *

A number of years later, Samuel sat at his desk, casting his gaze over the little mechanical toys littering his desk. He reached over to push one, and it came clicking and whirring to life for a few moments, then became silent once more. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

"Father," a breathy voice came from his doorway, and he was nearly taken back forty years, when his daughter stood in the same doorway before bed to ask him for a story. He looked over his shoulder to see the pale form of his beloved automaton, illuminated by the flickering orange of candlelight. "Father," Blue said again, and Samuel's eyes crinkled with a smile.

He had been utterly devoted to teaching her to speak for some time now. Hanne had left to support her own aging father, so unfortunately he could not rely on her to tutor the girl. Now Blue helped with upkeep around the house, so quiet without Green. Of course, the young man still visited on special occasions, bringing his wife who now was expecting their first child.

"Come, Lady Blue," Samuel said, rising carefully from the desk and bowing with creaking, stiff joints. Now _he_ felt like the automaton as his lovely girl crossed the floor and curtsied with the grace and fluidity of the best of ballerinas. Not even the most keen of observers could ascertain a difference between her and a live girl now.

"Dance with me."

* * *

 **This was little piece I whipped up not long after reading _Der Sandmann_. Trust me when I say this story is far less unsettling than Herr Hoffmann's. No bloody eyes on the floor, no throwing people from towers, no people going cuckoo. You're welcome.**

 **I'd personally like to thank the soundtracks of Ever After and The Tudors, and my German teacher. Without them, this could not have come to fruition.**

 **And a happy new year to all! Or, as they say _in der Schweiz_ , _Rutsch guet_** ** _übere_!**


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